The Blue Dress - Siren - David McRobbie PDF

Siren David McRobbie THEY CAME BUCKETING down the rough track in the Falcon, laughing and shouting at Craig who was driving and pretending he was having difficulty controlling the car. Tony in the...

Siren David McRobbie THEY CAME BUCKETING down the rough track in the Falcon, laughing and shouting at Craig who was driving and pretending he was having difficulty controlling the car. Tony in the rear, sat on the very edge of his seat with Alysia beside him and because she was so close, he tried not to let his apprehension show. 'Oh no!' Hannah screamed in the front passenger seat when they came to a sudden bend in the road. She clasped her hands over her eyes in mock horror. 'We'll never make it!' 'Watch this, kiddo,' Craig spun the wheel and put the car into a long skid and they scoured around the bend in a great schurr of flying gravel then he straightened up and there before them was the bay and the cottage just off the road to the left. Even Craig was impressed and he slowed and let the car roll the last few metres to the turn-off. 'Drive right in, Craig.' Now they were in his territory, Tony asserted control. 'There's a lean-to by the house you can park under.' 'And all this belongs to you, Tony?' Hannah said. 'Yes. Every stick of it.' 'Wish I had an uncle like yours,' Alysia commented. 'No one's ever left me anything.' 'I've had it three years now,' Tony said. 'Since I was four­teen.' But they already knew that. Craig brought the Falcon to a stop and they piled out and walked around the small cleared area that served as a garden. In past years, someone had placed white stones to mark off a gravel path to the front verandah. On either side, the grass was stunted and patchy while at the rear of the house a bent and rusty Hills Hoist dominated the view. A little way behind it stood a lone and darkly creosoted sentry box. 'What's the house like?' Alysia hastily turned away from thoughts of the outside toilet. 'Come and I'll show you,' Tony pulled the keys from his pocket. 'It's got everything. Furniture, stove, cooking things, plates, you name it.' 'And beds!' Craig made a sudden swoop on Hannah and crushed her to him and she laughed. He slipped a hand under her t-shirt and stroked the flat of her belly until she pulled away and smacked his hand. 'Yes, it sleeps four,' Tony ignored the horseplay. 'Bunks in one room, singles in the other.' 'What, no double beds?' Craig sounded genuinely disappointed. 'Rooms are too small for doubles,' Tony smiled and gave the bottom of the door a push with his foot and it opened with a grunt. 'Welcome to my humble home.' They walked into the main living room and sniffed the musty air. Tony bustled around, making his familiarity and ownership evident, opening louvre windows on either side of the front door and the ones to the left and right of the room. The sudden breeze flowing in from the bay cooled them and dispelled the dry staleness of the place. Alysia dumped her bag on the large central table and went past it into the kitchen at the rear to inspect the stove. 'It uses wood,' she sounded dismayed. 'Yeah, that's cool,' Tony reassured her. 'We collect drift- wood and stuff. But there's a couple of gas rings and plenty of bottled gas.' 'What about lights?' Hannah looked at the bare ceiling doubtfully. 'Kerosene,' Tony answered. 'You know, pressure lamps.' There was a silence. 'Look, I warned you what the place was like,' he went on. 'It's only a beach shack. Remotesville. I told you all at school, didn't I?' 'It's great, Tone,' Alysia smiled. 'We can rage all night. It's just a bit of a... ' She didn't finish her sentence. 'Culture shock,' Hannah supplied other words. 'What with the long drive to get here and Craig's wild stunts at the wheel, I was ready for something a bit more modern and less lonely.' 'Well, this is it,' Tony shrugged. 'So what say we get unpacked then have something to eat?' 'Yeah, come on,' Alysia said. 'It’s a great place to wind down. Smell the freedom out there!' They carried armfuls of sleeping bags and cartons of food and drink from the Falcon while Craig fussed with his ghetto blaster and cassettes. Tony got the ancient kerosene fridge going and went outside to check the level in the rainwater tanks and pump some water into the cistern mounted on the slope of the iron roof. They spent an hour stowing their gear away and settling in and by then, fresh water was running into the kitchen sink at a turn of the brass tap and a cheerful fire burned in the stove. 'Heats water for showers,' Tony explained. 'All mod cons, see.'  Alysia had been busy in one of the bedrooms, putting clothes in the chest of drawers. 'Hey, Tony,' she held up a blue dress. 'I found this hang­ing in the wardrobe. Whose is it?' 'Don't know,' Tony said. 'Never seen it before.' 'Ho, Tony's got a secret woman,' Hannah laughed. 'This is his little love nest.' 'Honest, you've never seen it before?' Alysia held the dress against her body and with her free hand, pulled the skirt to the side and kicked her leg forward to admire the effect. 'It's nice.' 'Hey look, you guys,' Craig stumped in from the Falcon with a carton of Coke and pulled out a twenty cent coin. 'What say we toss for the rooms? See who gets the bunks, who gets the beds, okay?' 'I though we'd take the bunks,' Tony said and there was a silence. 'The girls can have the beds.' 'What, you mean us guys share a room?' Craig put his hands on his hips. 'That's what I thought,' Tony was uneasy now. He paused then went on carefully. 'That's how I'd like it to be.' The girls looked at each other and waited. 'Yeah well, what I mean is,' Craig folded his arms and leaned against the bedroom door-post. 'You invited us here. End of school and all that. It was your idea, a week of freedom and no hang ups.' I didn't say that exactly,' Tony hesitated. 'I just invited you.' In reality, they had begun to show interest in his beach cottage a few, weeks before school ended. They told him how lucky he was to own such a place and asked him when he was going there next. With the seed of their interest planted in his mind, and carefully tended, it wasn't long before Tony himself raised the idea of them sharing the place with him for the first week after school. 'Well, what's it to be?' Craig shifted his weight to the other door-post. 'Craig,' Hannah made two musical notes of his name. 'Let it go. It's not worth the hassle.' 'Bull!' Craig said. 'What's the point of being all goody goody? Like school camp or something, having to sneak around at night. Why can't we be up front about it? That's why we came, isn't it?' He looked directly at Hannah. 'Um-it's just... 'Tony faltered. To explain his attitude, there were things he'd have to say about the cottage. He would have to talk about it being filled with memories of when he was a kid, of watching his parents unwind and relax in the holidays and become human and have time for him. He would have to tell them about that tender year when he was thirteen and he'd come winter fishing with his father and they didn't catch any fish but did a lot of talking man and boy, only Tony didn't know the real purpose of the trip was for them to say goodbye. In four months his father was dead of cancer and it was only after he'd gone Tony realised why they'd come to the cottage. With all those events to recall he wasn't ready to let other memories take over, not without a protest. But how could he explain that? Especially to someone like Craig who applied his own single minded kind of logic to every situation? He'd never really had much to do with them at school. He knew Craig went with Hannah and Alysia was Hannah's closest friend. So, in a way, his invitation was a means of getting closer to Alysia. 'Old fuddy duddy we got here,' Craig took up the argu­ment with a sneer. 'I thought in those last weeks at school you were beginning to turn out okay, get a bit of go in you, but I was wrong. What are you, a virgin or something?' Look, Craig,' Hannah went to him and took his arm and looked up into his face so that Tony couldn't see her expres­sion. I’m happy to have a bed. This is really nice of Tony, isn't it? So cool it, okay?' Then in a voice that was almost a whisper. 'Give it time. ‘I’ll take the other bed,' Alysia folded the blue dress over her arm and smoothed the material with her hand. 'With Hannah, so everything'll work out, you'll see.' 'Suit yourself,' Craig sneered. 'And I suppose Mister Clean here's gonna slap a black ban on skinny dipping too?' 'Talk about thick!' Hannah raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Skinny dipping? Craig, you've got to be kidding!' Alysia made a jokey protest. 'I just spent a bomb on a new one piece. It's for showing off, not for leaving off.' 'So there you are, Craig,' Hannah laughed outright.’Back in your box, with knobs on, sport. Beds for us, bunks for you guys.' ‘Bloody kids!' Craig stormed out to the verandah and in a few seconds, a great wail from his ghetto blaster burst through the air.  'Tony, it's okay,' Hannah soothed him. 'Everything's cool. Relax about it. He'll calm down.' But Craig's temper didn't improve. Alysia called through the window to ask if he wanted a sandwich and instead of replying, he turned his ghetto blaster up louder. At that moment, the sound suddenly faded and Craig furiously spun the volume knob higher then said 'bastard' as he realised the batteries were spent. Outside, with the sudden silence, they heard bird calls again and the lap of the waves at the edge of the bay. Hannah smiled and put a finger to her lips and frowned a warning for the others to say nothing. Craig stumped into the main room carrying his ghetto blaster and passed into the bedroom with the bunks. They heard a loud crash as he dumped the ghetto blaster on the floor then the springs of a bunk creaked. 'He hasn't brought any spare batteries,' Hannah silently mouthed the words at Tony and Alysia. 'He'll have to suffer.' The others nodded. 'What about a walk?' Alysia suggested in a louder voice. 'Work up an appetite?' 'Don't say that word,' Hannah cautioned. 'Appetite's a word with connotations.' She nodded a mock warning in Craig's direction and they all smiled and tiptoed to the front door. 'Craig, we're off for a walk,' Tony called. 'Coming?' 'Pig's arse,' Craig snapped. 'Pick flowers why don't ya!' At dinner, with the two pressure lamps lit, the main room was more cheerful. Tony set the table properly and they used plates and cutlery and served a meal of tinned stew and toast followed by pear halves in syrup. Craig joined them but he ate in a sulky fashion and said little. They spent the rest of the evening talking of their days at school, of events, of teachers and of their best and worst times. The girls did most of the talking while Craig kept up a morose silence until he finally announced it was time for bed. He and Tony silently lifted the top bunk off the set and made two narrow single beds then undressed awkwardly in the small space that was left. In the darkened main room, the girls flitted to the bathroom with toothbrushes in their hands and made giggling ghostly shapes in their white nightdresses then Tony heard muffled laughter and their light went out and he felt a surge of regret. 'Goodnight,' he said. 'Goodnight,' the girls called back and Tony lay with his hands behind his head and heard Craig's steady breathing. Even that sounded unfriendly. Alysia was kneeling by his bedside, whispering in his ear. ‘Tony, I need to go to the toilet.' 'Uh?' 'Toilet. Will you take me?' 'Yeah.' 'There might be snakes and things. Spiders.· 'Okay. I've got a torch.' He swung out of bed and Craig stirred. 'Hey, what's up?' 'It's okay. Alysia wants to go outside.' 'Oh yeah, get lucky, did you?' 'To the toilet,' Alysia corrected him. 'Come on, Tony.' They opened the back door in the kitchen and stepped out into the cool night air and he led her barefoot along the narrow path. She took the torch from his hand and left him and the door fell shut behind her. In minutes, he saw her white shape break away from the darkness and come to him and she took his hand and he lit the way back to the house. 'Tony, don't go in yet,' she said. 'It's so lovely here. We don't get nights like this at home. There's not another soul in the world, just the two of us, under the clouds. Not a light anywhere, not a house. Nothing.' 'Yeah,' Tony agreed and switched off the torch and waited with her. In the darkness, she pirouetted away from him and let her nightdress spin out as she turned on tiptoe then laughed and danced back to him and suddenly leaned against his bare chest and her head fitted under his chin. 'Oh, you're all warm from sleep,' she said and there was a sweet smell in her hair. He knew she'd hear his heart beating down in his chest and she'd realise what he was feeling.  'What are your arms doing?' she said at last. 'Nothing.' 'Can't have that,' Alysia took the torch from him and put it on the ground then gently placed his left hand in the small of her back then did the same with his right. 'That's better.' She was kissing him and he began to want her so that she could tell but he tried to hide it. 'It's all right, Tony,' she said. 'Honestly, everything's all right.' 'It's not right here,' his voice was hoarse. 'Where then?' 'I don't know.' 'Well, let's go inside.' She took his hand and led the way. Inside, Hannah was sitting in the main room and shone a torch in their faces. Tony shielded his eyes. 'You two were quick,' she said and went into the bedroom where Craig lay. 'Come on, sailor, show a leg,' they heard her say. 'Your turn to be destroyer escort.' Craig made a feeble protest then slouched zombie like to the kitchen door with Hannah lighting the way. Tony heard him outside, shout a sudden laugh and Hannah shushed him but even she was laughing. 'Tony, I can't sleep,' Alysia said simply. 'Missing my teddy bear or something.' So he lit a hurricane lamp and then one of the gas rings and got a saucepan down from the shelf. ‘I’ll make you some warm milk,' he said. 'Mum did that when I couldn't sleep.' 'Oh, how utterly sweet,' she said. They sat at the table, drinking their warm milk. Alysia looked at him over the white rim of her cup but under the table, Tony felt her bare foot stroke slowly up and down the length of his leg and he looked at her and was sad. In the morning it was raining heavily and a cold wind blew. They ate breakfast then washed up the dishes and tidied the kitchen then met around the big table. 'So what do we do?' the impatient edge had come back into Craig's voice. 'Play Trivial Pursuit? Ludo? Press flowers?' They searched the bookshelves in the main room and found a pack of playing cards, but there were only forty-three of them in the box. The shelves contained several books which were mainly old fashioned hardback novels and art books, some of them in German. Stacked in loose bundles were papers and letters and half finished sketches but they found nothing to pass the time on a rainy morning. 'Tony, tell us about this uncle of yours,' Alysia said. 'Oh, storytime,' Craig snorted. 'Listen with mother!' 'His name was Clement,' Tony ignored the outburst. 'He was an artist but he got polio and ended up in a wheelchair.' 'And lived here?' Alysia said. 'Yeah, there was another young artist looked after him,' Tony went on. 'A German guy called Alfons. Uncle gave him free accommodation.' 'Sounds very cosy,' Craig yawned loudly. 'Hey, Hannah, what say we go for a burn up the coast? Grab a pizza and some batteries for the GB?' ‘Yeah, okay,' Hannah stood up. 'You guys?' 'No, I'll give it a miss.' Alysia looked at Tony. 'I'll stay,' he agreed. Hannah gathered money and one or two things for the trip then went out to the Falcon where Craig seemed to have found a sudden burst of good humour. They heard the motor race then the noise left them. 'That's all I know about my uncle,' Tony picked up the story. 'Alfons left him in the lurch or something and Clement went into a nursing home in the city and died. The end.' 'Can I read these, Tony?' Alysia picked up a loose sheaf of papers. 'Do you mind?' 'They're only old letters and stuff,' he said. 'But go ahead and read them.' He went out to the verandah and looked at the rain washed bay. 'What are you going to do?' she called after him. ‘I’m going for a walk,' he announced.  'What, in this?' she looked up from the papers. 'It's only rain,' he said. 'You coming?' 'No, I'll stay,' Alysia said. 'Maybe later, eh?' He kicked off his shoes and went down the path to the soft sand at the top of the beach and thought of Alysia and how she'd danced for him in the night then come to him and taken his arms to put around her body. As he stepped out across the wet sand drifts he thought of how they'd finished their milk and gone their separate ways to empty rooms. Alysia found an exercise book and opened it and smoothed out the first page and began to read. Sunday evening. Alfons came in from his walk on the beach this morning and I could see he was taken with something. I was short tempered with him because he was back so late and there were things to do around the cottage but he was fairly bubbling with it. It appears the fool has gone cow-eyed over some girl he met on the beach. He is such a simple soul anyone could twist him. 'Oh, Clement,' he said, 'that is twice now already I've seen her. She wears a blue dress and runs with bare feet.' How I detest intrusions! It means campers are nearby or worse still, tourists. They spoil everything and I told him not to encourage outsiders but he assured me this girl was different. 'She is so gentle,' he said. 'You should see how she moves and how she looks.' 'And what was she doing? Building sand-castles?' 'No, she was just there. Wandering in an aimless way. Dreamy.' 'And you spoke with her, of course?' 'I didn't dare to. I mean, one doesn't. But she's so beauti­ful. Dark hair, eyes so deep, and I've not seen her smile but I would love to say something to make her do it. Clement, I want to paint her just as I saw her in that blue dress with bare feet and flowing dark hair.' I wanted Alfons to make some sketches then and there so I could see this girl for myself but he reminded me of the chores he had to do and went away. Monday. He left even earlier this morning. I shouted to remind him that he had not washed the dishes or pumped the cistern but he only waved and went off. Back he came, all aglow and of course, he had seen the girl. I decided to put aside my detestation of intruders and tease him. 'She's waylaying you, Alfons. She's a schemer. You'd better watch out.· 'I don't believe that,' he said and I could see he was hurt. 'Have you spoken to her yet?' was my next question. 'I don't dare to.' 'Then do it, man!' I had never seen Alfons like this before. The girl had made a marvellous change in him and he was brighter, somehow more human. His blushes goad me into teasing him. Poor Alfons, he has to contend with my banter in the cottage and the blue dressed temptress on the beach. He went off to gather some firewood, more thoughtful now, probably rehearsing what he might say to her. Tuesday. Well, wonders will never cease." He plucked up the courage to speak with the girl. 'Very good, my son,' I spoke in my most fatherly voice. 'And what did you say to this one with the maiden face?' 'Good morning.' 'Good morning,' I echoed. 'How absolutely original. And I suppose she said good morning to you in return?' 'Don't tease me, Clement,' he said and was miserable but I was in the mood for a bit of fun. 'By God, Alfons,' I went on. 'You'll be painting her before you know it. Better order a few more tubes of azure blue for the weekend.' He went away again and I heard him swing his axe in a fury. Wednesday. He is neglecting his work, not the house work for he now does too much of that. He has not done a painting for days now and the truth is, I need his paintings and the money they fetch. But today has been a red letter one; it seems Miss Blue Dress spoke first, and gave him a smile. He had the grace to drop his eyes and look away when he told me for it seems she only said good morning. 'Oh, but the smile, Clement, the smile,' he said and looked me in the eye. 'It was worth a million good mornings. Thursday. I want to meet this girl for myself. If she can have such an effect on Alfons then she must be rare indeed. He came back later than usual and his eyes were dancing and he even had a song on his lips. 'You look flushed, Alfons,' I said. 'With success, I hope?' He only nodded and smiled and went away. I need to meet this girl for myself, I must meet her, but how? Down by the water's edge the sand is firm enough for the wheelchair but how do I get across the loose shingle? I could try walking sticks or even crutches but what if I fell? Would he carry me, perhaps? Then it came to me-a brilliant idea. 'Alfons,' I said, later in the day when he was chopping carrots for our evening meal. I spoke casually, in a winning, friendly voice. 'Why not invite your girl to the cottage. For morning tea, perhaps.' At once, a cunning look came into his eyes and he chopped a whole carrot before answering. ‘I’ll see what she thinks,' was all he said. Now I wait in a fever for tomorrow. Friday. When he returned, I even had to remind him of my invitation. 'Oh, Clement, she only laughed at your idea.' He dis­missed me with one statement then tossed me a crumb of detail with the next. 'But for me she recited a poem.' 'Well,' I pretended not to care about him and the stupid girl and her vapid doggerel. 'Am I to hear itt 'Oh, Clement,' he said in that love-sick way of his. 'I can't remember the words but her voice was like listening to music.' If he would only sketch her I could see her likeness but he will not touch a pencil. I keep suggesting he make a drawing but there is always something else to do. 'The chores, Clement,' he says. 'Must get on with the chores.' The cottage has never looked neater in all the time I have known it. I am in a frenzy to know more about this girl-in the blue dress but he doles out the information to me, like one feeding tid-bits to a pet dog. This morning, she commanded he sit by her feet while she told him a story. 'Well?' I demanded. 'Am I to hear this tale? This farrago, this tattle, this gossip?' But I already knew his answer. 'I can't remember the words,' he said and shrugged his shoulders. 'Or the theme or even the conclusion. I just hang on to her face with my eyes. I could look at her forever and never tire. ' I accuse him of slacking on his work, his real work, his painting but he laughs at me and sets to scrubbing the floor. Saturday. It seems today she danced for him. Alfons sat opposite me and only used his words to describe her. She spun away from him and danced on the bare sand. He alone watched this. She did it with such grace and lightness, dip­ping and curving and swaying and there seemed to be music to help her move. Her blue dress curved around her legs and her hair fell about her shoulders and she smiled at him alone in all the world yet left no marks of her feet in the sand. And when he'd gone about his chores, his endless chores, I sat in my futile chair and cried until the tears wet my shirt. Sunday. 'She has sisters,' he told me. She named 'them for him but so quickly he was not able to catch her words nor even count how many sisters she had. 'Did she say her own name?' I demanded he give me at least this shred of truth.  'It is Parthenope.' 'A stupid name. Who'd call a daughter that?' 'She sang for me, Clement,' he said. 'There I was, all alone on that beach, with the sea to the right, the bush to the left, listening to my Parthenope sing me a song of love.' 'What were the words?' 'I won't tell you. I daren't.' 'Can't tell me, you mean!' I shouted at him and would have hit the fool. 'She is a fantasy, this girl of yours! You have made her up.' 'You're only jealous of me!' he said and laughed. 'Why should I be jealous of you?' But he was right. I was horribly jealous because he could paint while I couldn't and because I was master yet had to depend on him for everything. But he had another twist to make me even more envious. Tomorrow she has promised he can paint her. 'Then will I be able to see her?' I sounded like a small boy begging to receive a treat and hated myself for it. 'I'll see her when you bring the girl home on canvas?' He stood in front of me and slowly shook his head from side to side then went off to pump the cistern. Monday. As soon as the sun lit up my window and the early birds sang, I knew he had gone. I called out several times for him but I should have saved my breath. He had gone to his Parthenope. I dragged myself out of bed, across the floor and sure enough, easel, palette, brushes and half a dozen tubes of paint had all gone. I had been keeping them for when my own ability returns. I waited all day to get a glimpse on canvas of Parthenope with her blue dress flowing but Alfons didn't return. Had to scratch together my own dinner at night. Tuesday. I crawled down the soft shingle to the beach and it was easy so I could have gone after him any time I chose. No use crying over it now. I dragged myself by the elbows, leaving marks in the sand, like the huge, sluggish lizard I am. There was a jumble of rocks and I got on them to have a better view of the whole beach. A very iguana I must have looked! Not a sight of Alfons but I spotted the easel, standing a little way off and I plodded in that direction and came up to it and it wavered in the breeze from the sea. A stronger wind and the whole easel could have blown over or even cartwheeled away and been lost. There wasn't a lick of paint on the canvas but some way off, on another rock, I found something. I crawled towards it and came at last to my first sight of the blue dress. Oh, she wasn't wearing it; it was discarded on the sand. I pressed my nose into its softness but only to feel if it was still warm from her body and oh, the scent of it made my head reel and for a moment I felt a little of what must have inflamed Alfons. Then I found his clothes; not piled neatly, but scattered as if he'd flung them off and never wanted to use them again. I folded the dress inside my shirt and elbowed my way back to the cottage. Thursday. I waited these two whole days for my tradesman Theo to come. By prior arrangement, he was to do some repairs but instead I sent him to fetch the police. This is hard for me to say; even harder to write. They found Alfons' drowned and naked body on the beach but there was no sign of any girl. Sunday. I miss poor Alfons and being with him. Even now he has started to come to me in my dreams where he talks endlessly but not about painting or art or wine, which he sometimes did. No, all his words are of the girl who danced on the sand. She is all he can talk about but I shall never see what he saw, hear what he heard or feel what he did. I know her only from his words, not from his picture or from seeing her in life. In this way, even in my dreams, I have lost not only Alfons but also the girl in the blue dress. Alysia quietly closed the exercise book and stared down at her hands for several minutes. Then she stood up and went into her bedroom, to the wardrobe where she opened the door and the blue dress shimmered back at her. On an impulse, she undid her shorts at the waist and let them fall then peeled off her t-shirt and shrugged into the dress. She marvelled at the way it caressed her body and fitted her as if she'd worn it always. Alysia went out to the main room where there was a full length mirror and she turned this way and that as she admired herself. Then Tony was in the doorway, wet and breathless from the beach and he stood grinning at her, his chest heaving. 'So, it was you out there?' he said. 'Me, what?' she turned around to him swiftly so that the skirt of the dress ballooned about her bare legs. 'I went as far as the point then came back,' Tony said. 'And I saw you on the beach, dancing in your blue dress and you waved to me then you ran back here, towards the cottage. I followed and I followed, but you were always too fast for me.' He stood, panting and happy. 'No,' Alysia shook her head and backed away from him, touching a hand to her throat. 'Now, we're together,' Tony held out both hands and advanced towards her. 'Let's go back to the beach.' The colour drained from Alysia's face.